


In the Strongest Conjuration

by RogueBelle



Category: Firefly
Genre: Explicit Language, Gen, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-16
Updated: 2013-09-16
Packaged: 2017-12-26 17:59:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/968628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RogueBelle/pseuds/RogueBelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nandi's former employer quits playing the dulcimer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Strongest Conjuration

Her hand didn't start shaking until after she put down the revolver. Even then, it was slight, probably unnoticeable to anyone but herself.

"Nandi. Nandi. Oh, God, Nandi."

She could see Emma's wispy dark hair, blurry in the tarnished mirror, but she ignored the girl's stammering and pulled a handkerchief out of her basque. She held the square of white linen up to her lip, and watched dispassionately as the crimson bled onto the crumpled fabric.

A thunder of footsteps echoed from the narrow hall outside, followed by a loud thump and a muffled squeak of indignation as someone found herself pinched between the door and her fellow. Emma hawed for a moment, then, receiving neither instruction nor dissent from Nandi, scurried over to the door and opened it. Helen, Nessa, and Chari stumbled through in a manner that would have been comic, but for the slowly exsanguinating corpse in the center of the room.

"Oh, sweet fucking _Jesus_!" Helen exclaimed, gaping broadly. It was a measure of her own distress that Emma didn't even chide her for the blaspheming.

Nessa was the only one who tiptoed closer, eyes wide with horror. "Nandi, what did you _do_?"

Nandi turned, slowly, away from the mirror, but didn't look at them; her eyes stayed downwards, watching the blood seeping between the cracks in the floorboards. "Man hits me once," she said, tucking the stained handkerchief back into her basque, "he won't ever do it a second time."

"You _shot_ him!" Chari exclaimed, in the same breath that Helen yelped, "He _hit_ you?"

"Ain't like she's the first, Helen," Nessa said, still staring at the body, her upper lip crinkling in distaste.

"Yeah, but I didn't think ol' Beau'd ever be stupid enough t'hit _Nandi_. She's a _lady_ ," Helen said, stepping into the room and leaning against the wall, arms crossed over her ample chest. "I mean, us, sure, I grew up gettin' slapped around all th' time, but—"

"Ain't no one gonna slap you around again," Nandi said, her low voice cool and even. "None of you. I won't allow it."

"You ain't gonna have nothin' to say for it, Nandi! Lawmen're gonna haul you in!" Chari, still standing in the doorway, shrilled.

Helen snorted. "No one's gonna miss Beau Rizzar enough to arrest Nandi for shootin' him. Man needed killin'. Half th' moon knows that."

"What if they do come?" Emma worried, lips thinning with anxiety, dusky hands twisting. "What if they shut us down, turn us out? I've nowhere to go—"

Helen's eyes rolled ceilingward. "Don't be stupid, Em, they ain't gonna turn us out. Half the lawmen and half the judicial board are half our best clients."

"But what if they _do_?" Emma pressed, her voice rising to a vaguely hysterical pitch.

"Or what if someone worse'n Beau takes over?" Nessa wondered, less feverishly, still from the door.

"None of that's gonna happen." Nandi raised her eyes to the girls at long last. Chari and Emma actually stepped back, scared by the intensity burning in the emeralds. "No one's gettin' turned out. No new _man_ is takin' over. This is _our_ place now."

Nessa's jaw dropped open. "Nandi, you don't mean to—"

"I surely do."

"They'll never allow it," Chari said, shaking her head, styled curls bouncing around her ears. "Burgess an' the rest of 'em. They won't stand for a woman runnin' a business. Not around here."

"Oh, they'll stand for it," Nandi said, lifting her chin. "Or they'll be joinin' Beau in hell a mite sooner than they're intending."

Chari still looked skeptical, Nessa and Emma somewhat stricken. But Helen hiked up her skirts, stepped over the body, and looked appraisingly at Nandi. "Ain't like they consider this a real business, anyway," she said. "They'll let Nandi run it. Whorin's women's work anyway!" And she actually laughed, and the sound of it, discordantly merry, shook Nandi out of a bit of her hypnosis.

She fixed the other three girls with a solid stare. "This is our home," she said. "It's still half a shitpile now, I know, but... we can make it right. We can make it a real home. And we can run it _our_ way. Ain't no girl under my roof ever gonna get slapped around, or drugged-up, or ill-used, not ever again." Nandi felt a warm pressure in her chest, the iron tang of courage spiking in her mouth. She knew the feeling, knew the taste; they'd been there when she'd pitched her fit and left Sihnon; they'd been there the first time she'd punched a too-rough client in the jaw; they'd been there when she'd shot Neal Harksford in the alley on Ilium. Beside her, Helen was beaming; Nessa was starting to venture a small smile. "I got Peta and Meifen off the drops. I'll get the others off, too. And any man who don't like the way we do business now, well, he can slink right on back to the missus." She reached out, and found Helen's hand, and pressed it. "Things're gonna change now. Things'll be different, for all of us. I promise you that."

She'd won Nessa and Emma, but Chari remained unconvinced. "It'll never work, Nandi," she said.

"Anyone who don't trust me is free to hop along," Nandi said. "'Verse is full'a whorehouses. Most of 'em run by men like Beau Rizzar." Chari's lip quivered slightly, and Nandi almost felt bad for her. She'd always been weak-willed, even more than gentle Emma or sweet Lucy. "You're free to try your luck elsewhere, Chari. Or you can stay here, and try to make a real home and a real family outta this place."

She could feel Helen, beside her, fair glaring at Chari, whereas the looks from the other two girls were less fierce, but no less imploring. After a moment, Chari nodded. "I'll stay. I'll help."

"Good. I'm glad of it. Now." Nandi sighed, letting her mind turn over to practical matters. "Y'all three run downstairs. Emma, find some sheets we can wrap all this blubber in. Nessa, Chari, grab a couple of the other girls and start diggin' a hole out back. Helen, you don't mind the blood, do you?" Helen shook her blonde head. "I didn't think so. You find a bucket of water and some rags, and you'll help me clean this up. We'll prob'ly have to take up a few floorboards in the end, but I wanna clean as much as we can. Go on, now. If we can get this done by daylight, so much the better."

The girls all skittered out, but Helen caught her hand on the doorframe and turned back, with a sly little smile crawling over her face. "Y'know, Nandi..." she said, conspiratorially, "we can't call it 'Beau's Belles' no more. We'll need a new name."

Nandi chuckled, and moved back to the dresser, wrapping her revolver up in a square of grease-stained golden silk. "I'm sure I'll think of somethin'."

With her usual impulsive cheer, Helen bounced back over and planted a kiss on Nandi's cheek. "Don't you worry 'bout the others. I'll hustle them in line, anyone says a peep against you." The girl's blue eyes were shining more brightly than Nandi had ever seen them, radiant with hope; it bolstered her courage, assured her more than ever that this was the right thing. Helen had said true; Beau Rizzer had needed killing.

"It may not be easy," Nandi had to admit.

"You can do it," Helen said. "I have faith in you."

Helen bounded out the door, and Nandi took a long, slow breath. _'Home.'_ For the first time in years, the first time since leaving Sihnon, the word felt like it might become appropriate.

"Home is a name, a word, it is a strong one; stronger than magician ever spoke, or spirit ever answered to, in the strongest conjuration." – Charles Dickens


End file.
